


Blessed Are The Dead (for they rest from their labors)

by scandalsavage



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Burns, Cigarettes, Claustrophobia, Cock & Ball Torture, Collars, Daddy Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Face-Fucking, M/M, Mind Games, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU), Vibrators, Villains win AU, Violent Sex, Violent Thoughts, the road to mind break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 18:15:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30076326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalsavage/pseuds/scandalsavage
Summary: Roman hums and swirls his scotch in its crystal tumbler as another round of muffled screams and panicked thumps jostle his legs where they’re stretched out to rest on the new coffee table for his workshop.It doesn’t really go with his whole theme. It’s a little cheesy or a lot macabre, depending on one’s perspective. Probably more the later in this particular case. But for the little bitch who brought down the most successful criminal empire in Gotham—Roman’sempire—not just once, but a second time after Roman had managed to rebuild it from the ground up…Well, for Jason, Roman would—and will—do a lot more than suffer a coffin as a coffee table if it means more of those desperate, terrified screams.
Relationships: Roman Sionis/Jason Todd
Comments: 8
Kudos: 75
Collections: Romin Week 2021





	Blessed Are The Dead (for they rest from their labors)

**Author's Note:**

> Unedited. Very very rough. Hope you manage to enjoy it anyway.
> 
> Day 1: **Villains Win AU** | ~~Branding | Ignored Safeword~~  
>  Day 2: ~~Corporate/Office Setting~~ | **Drugged** | ~~Blackmail~~  
>  Day 3: ~~Earth 3 | Sex Worker AU~~ | **Collars**  
>  (is this cheating? maybe a little)
> 
> ~~I'm so sorry Dick and Tim. For some reason, your fates just felt right for this 😔~~

The heroes have fallen. 

Most who could be killed, were killed, bodies incinerated to prevent their nasty habit of resurrection. Those who could not, or for whom death was more complicated than a bullet to the brain, were locked away in the Phantom Zone. 

The ones who remained, the humans who could be contained or were useful in some way, and weren’t proven motivators for other heroes, were enslaved. 

Unsurprisingly, the Gotham Bats were the topic of much of the debate. In the end, no matter how hard Wilson and al Ghul fought to leash the boy of their obsession, Grayson and Drake, leaders of teams and beacons of hope in their own right, were deemed too likely to inspire revolt to be allowed to live. Ra’s al Ghul’s argument that his grandson could be corrected went over better and the littlest batbrat was carted off to some League of Assassins stronghold somewhere no one could find.

Roman was particularly annoyed by that development. The little shit had kept him locked up in his own filth for months and Roman wanted to pay that back with interest. 

It was probably for the best, though. As it is, he spent a great deal of money on the two bats he ended up with. Or would have ended up with. He got his money back when the little blond bitch was killed trying to escape before the hand off. 

Smart of her really, taking advantage of the goons tasked with holding her underestimating her skill. A quick death escaping is definitely preferable to what Roman had in mind for her. 

No such luck for the other one. The Bat’s may have constantly underestimated the Red Hood, but the underworld? Not a chance. If Roman was a little less selfish, he would have recommended they kill the kid with his father and brothers. He may not have the hero clout to stir up any caped crusaders in hiding, but he certainly had it in him to rouse the rabble. 

But that’s one of the benefits of being a “villain”. Roman doesn’t have to do shit for anyone else. He doesn’t have to worry about anyone else. 

He can be as self surviving and greedy as he wants. 

It did surprise him, at the auction, when more than a few of his peers were interested in the now unmasked Jason Todd. Penguin obviously, Roman was prepared for that. But Ra’s? Even Harvey, who as far as Roman knew, didn’t have any interaction with the Red Hood, heard the kid’s name and turned red; started bidding like he could run with Lex Luthor. Who was also a surprising participant, even if he did bow out early. 

It had cost Roman more than he expected to have to shell out to get the little bastard in his clutches. 

Roman hums and swirls his scotch in its crystal tumbler as another round of muffled screams and panicked thumps jostle his legs where they’re stretched out to rest on the new coffee table for his workshop. 

It doesn’t really go with his whole theme. It’s a little cheesy or a lot macabre, depending on one’s perspective. Probably more the later in this particular case. But for the little bitch who brought down the most successful criminal empire in Gotham— _Roman’s_ empire—not just once, but a second time after Roman had managed to rebuild it from the ground up… 

Well, for Jason, Roman would—and will—do a lot more than suffer a coffin as a coffee table if it means more of those desperate, terrified screams.

A lot had come to light after the fall. Especially once Luthor and his team of supervillain tech guru's cracked Bruce Wayne’s stupidly named “batcomputer” and laid all secrets bare. Batman’s fail-safes for the League were instrumental in bringing down the heaviest hitters.

It also gave Roman a great deal of insight into his new pet.

He checks his watch. The brat’s been locked in the small, enclosed space for a little over an hour and other than a few short pauses, he’s been screaming and thrashing for about forty-five of the minutes spent entombed. Likely took about fifteen minutes for the fear toxin to set in and the punk to succumb. 

Overkill? Perhaps. Roman suspects the toxin would have been unnecessary. Jason would have almost certainly been trapped in his traumatic memories without it. But Roman doubts the results would have been quite so… drastic.

Forty-five minutes is probably good enough for their first session. As soon as Roman is convinced the bitch’s heart won’t give out, he’ll lock Jason in there all night. Really get him thinking that he’s been buried again. Savor that delicious terror.

Setting his drink on the side table, Roman sits a bit straighter and taps the button to open the coffin’s lid. 

It’s barely cracked when the kid inside lurches up with a desperate gasp. The thing isn’t airtight. He doesn’t want to kill his new toy (yet, anyway), that would defeat the purpose. But it is _nearly_ airtight. 

The short chain attached to the collar at his throat goes taut, jerking the kid back down with a strangled yelp as his windpipe is crushed under the wide strip of heavy duty leather. It’s just long enough to allow him to flail around inside but not nearly long enough to let him out. 

There’s already blood on the snowy satin of the lid; blood on his ruined fingernails; blood where the rough iron shackles tore open his wrists and ankles with his vigorous struggling. 

Those hands scrabble at the sides of the coffin as Jason blindly tries to drag himself from the embrace of his final resting place. But the chains keep him in, the one at his feet not even allowing him to unfold his legs. 

It’s a little short for him anymore. The coffin. His _actual_ coffin. The one the Bat put him into the ground in. 

Roman thought it would take forever to find, if it even still existed. But good ol’ Bruce made it so _easy_ for Roman to ruin his kid even more. The creep _kept_ it in a sealed storage locker deep in his cave. 

Even Roman realizes that’s fucked up.

He sits there quietly, watching as Jason—face blotchy and wet, streaked with tears and drool—sucks in big gulps of air, trying unsuccessfully to stop the hyperventilating.

“Look at you, Red,” Roman coos. “Such a mess after just a few minutes.”

It probably felt like an eternity for the kid. The thought makes Roman smile to himself. 

Jason takes a couple more big, ragged breaths. 

“L-lemme… o-o-out.” 

Fuck, it’s so perfectly pathetic. The way his voice rasps and cracks. The way sobs rack through his body and break the words even more.

Roman props his feet up on the lip of the coffin, just out of reach of Jason’s fingers. He lets the anxiety and tension build for a moment while he admires the dark streaks left by the boy’s bloody fingers slipping along the shiny black lacquer. 

Then he sighs dramatically. “I don’t know, baby. It doesn’t seem like you’ve learned anything. Maybe you need a bit more time to think about your behavior.”

The bloodshot whites make those teal irises look preternaturally bright, slim as they are around pupils blown out in terror. When he presses the button to close the lid, those eyes grow comically wider. The brat’s chest heaves with short, frantic breaths.

“N-no!” He screeches, as best he can, anyway, with a voice that sounds like he gargled a bunch of thumbtacks, and claws at the sides of the box. “N-no… pl-please…”

“You know what I want to hear, pumpkin,” Roman says, making a show of examining his nails as the lid creeps lower.

“P-please… s-sir… let-let me o-out.”

Roman rolls his eyes. Even scared out his fucking mind, Jason is an obstinate, hard-headed little bitch.

“Close. But not quite.”

The boy squeezes his eyes shut causing tears to pour down his ruddy cheeks. The lid gets lower and lower. Roman almost thinks the brat is going to let himself be locked in again. 

He’s just considering that maybe he diluted the fear toxin too much. He didn’t want Jason full on hallucinating, wanted him present, in the moment. He just wanted to push him over the edge, knock down those infamous Bat-barriers like children's blocks instead of having to bash through them like the walls of Blackgate.

But finally the little shit makes the most pathetic little squeaking whimper of terror and caves.

“D-daddy! Pl-please, da-daddy… let me-let me o-out.”

Since he has no face, Roman’s smirk is all internal. He stops the lid closing and reverses it. Watches tension flood out of all those vigilante muscles as Jason sags against the side of his coffin, sobbing.

The breathy, hitched ‘thank you’s are an unexpected but pleasant surprise.

After a moment he hits another button to release the chains keeping the kid trapped inside the casket. 

Roman laughs quietly as Jason positively spills over the edge and onto the floor, heaving for air on all fours as he tries to get control of himself.

Another pretty picture. Sweat glistens over all that naked flesh, from head to toe. The golden RS on base of the mean looking vibrator Roman shoved up his tight little hole glints in the room’s deceptively soft dim lighting. The cage around his cock blocks the new piercing from view, but Roman is pleased to see the titanium press crushing the bitch’s balls into the built-in metal spikes has, during Jason’s struggles, drawn little droplets of blood.

It must have been excruciating and he’d still thrashed and thrashed.

Moment of admiration over, Roman pushes up on the bar with the polished toe of his black oxfords, digging the little spikes further into the soft, sensitive skin.

The brat whimpers and tries to curl in on himself. 

Roman doesn’t let him. Keeping his foot in it’s threatening position at the kid’s most vulnerable area, Roman’s hand snaps out, gripping Jason’s chin and dragging him closer.

“See baby, that wasn’t so hard. Was it?” He hums in a mockery of a soothing tone. “You be a good pet and I’ll be a good master.”

If he could grin, he would. Jason won’t look up at him. Those pretty blue-greens stay firmly fixed on the floor as the kid shakes so hard it looks like his bones might rattle out of his skin.

“You should be happy to have a new daddy, sweetheart,” Roman continues, keeping hold of Jason’s chin with one hand and popping the button of his slacks open with the other. “Know where I found your coffin? Your old man kept it. Dent and Cobblepot think it was a trophy. A reminder that he once managed to get rid of his most useless kid. But not me, baby. I think he kept it so that he could put you back in it.”

That gets him wet sob and a weak shake of the head.

Roman pulls his zipper down and fishes himself out before running his finger through the sweaty mess of black curls between his legs. 

“You sure? Joker told us about how the big bad Red Hood went from the most efficient, fearsome crime lord in the city to MIA overnight.” Talking about that time leaves a fould taste on Romans tongue. He grabs a cigarette out of the mother-of-pearl case on the side table and lights it. Blows the first drag into the kid’s face. 

Jason doesn’t even cough. Just sits there, dejected, fat drops falling from those impossibly thick lashes, and hiccups. 

Looks like a kicked puppy. 

A bitch indeed. 

“Heard your daddy chose Joker over you. Heard he cut your throat wide open. Blood gushing out of your artery like a fucking geyser.”

The shaking of his head gets more vigorous, the breathing picking up speed again.

Beautiful.

“Left you to bleed out in the rubble. Just like before. In Ethiopia, right? The holy Bat, all powerful and saintly with his code. No killing. Wouldn’t kill the psycho clown who put his son in the ground but was perfectly happy to send that resurrected son back to his grave.”

“N-no… he…”

“Sshh, pumpkin. Daddy’s talking.” Roman takes another drag, taking his hand off Jason’s chin to give himself a couple lazy strokes. God this little bitch is fucked. If Brucie was still around, Roman would have to thank him for laying all this amazing fucking groundwork. “Most fathers would consider that a miracle, wouldn’t they? Their murdered kid coming back. But not yours, hmm baby. Nah, yours wanted to stuff your cute little ass back in that coffin and forget you ever darkened his doorstep.”

It’s softer now, movements smaller, less certain, but he’s still shaking his head, mouth opening and closing but no sounds coming out. Roman will take it for the win it is. 

This is excellent progress for their first night. 

He’s definitely keeping that fear toxin on hand, even after the bitch is fully broken. 

Just for fun.

Roman hooks his finger under the collar. It’s a bit snug, probably adding to brat’s inability to catch his breath. With his thumb, Roman pushes up on Jason’s jaw.

“Look at me, pumpkin,” he orders.

It takes a moment for those eyes to flicker up to Roman’s face. Even then, they dart back down once before fixing the older man in their gaze.

“ _I_ don’t want to kill you. _I’m_ just trying to help you overcome your fears. Make you into the good boy you’re so desperate to be. _I’m_ not going to give up on you. _I’ll_ do whatever it takes to help you reach your potential, sweetheart.”

The kid takes a giant gulp. Roman feels it move past his fingers, the jut of that throat bobbing painfully against the collar.

“Now,” Roman says, reclining back, letting his legs fall open wider. “You know what else daddy wants from you. Be a good little bitch and maybe I can do something else to make you a bit more comfortable.”

Maybe. Probably not. It’d have to be the gold medal of blow jobs. But a little incentive never hurts.

The shaking picks up again and the brat’s lower lip wobbles. It draws Roman’s attention there for the first time. He can see the teeth marks dug into the plush skin, cherry red from biting or blood or both. 

He gives a rough jerk of the collar. “Get to it. I have all night to reinforce these lessons.”

A shudder runs through Jason’s body and he swallows hard. Leans forward, mouth opening tentatively.

Roman rolls his eyes again and shoves himself into the hot, wet cavern. He buries himself to the hilt on that first drive in, eyes locked on the way those lips stretch around his thick, throbbing shaft. Moaning out another breath of smoke at the way the slut’s throat spasms around him when he forces himself deeper. 

He holds Jason down until he starts to struggle, trying to push away for air as he suffocates on Roman’s cock. 

Fuck that’s the way he wants to see the Red Hood, the bastard who took everything from Roman not once but twice… that’s the way he wants to see this batbrat die. Watch the light leave his eyes while he chokes on Roman’s cock.

But not tonight. 

Roman pulls him up, leaving the tip of his dick on that whorish tongue while Jason sucks in a desperate breath. Then shoves him back down and starts fucking his face like the bitch insulted his mother. 

Or rather, like the bitch insulted _him personally_. Because Jason did. 

And Roman never gave two shits about his mother.

The tears and broken little whimpers threaten to send him over the edge faster than he’d like. 

With a grunt, Roman pulls him off again, all the way this time. Watch his mouth open and close as he gets oxygen while he can.

“Open your mouth,” Roman growls, something deep and mean igniting a fire in his belly that rages up his spine in a hot, tingling sensation. “Stick out your tongue,” he adds when Jason does as he’s told.

Slowly, so that the bitch can see what he’s doing, so that Roman can see the fear blow those pupils wide again, he brings his cigarette up, hovering so close to that pink tongue that Jason must be able to feel the heat from the end. 

He can tell the kid thinks he’s going to put it out on his tongue and for a moment, Roman considers it. Then a better idea strikes him. 

Instead, he taps the top of the filter. Ash and little flakes of ember drop onto the wet surface. 

Jason flinches, tongue jerking back a bit before he forces it to stay out.

“Good,” Roman snaps.

And then he’s back to it. His hips slam against the kid’s face, the slap of skin on skin sounds rough and painful, loud enough to echo off the padded walls of the room.

He pulls Jason off of him again, just before comes. Doesn’t even have to tell the little slut to keep his mouth open this time. 

“Hold it, bitch” he grunts as he spills his load between the kid’s teeth. Watches as it pools, thick and stark white against the impossible, vivid pink of what Roman thinks might become his favorite hole.

“Don’t swallow until I tell you to,” Roman orders before pushing Jason away so hard he collapses onto his side. 

Without giving him a chance to find his bearings, Roman reaches down and grabs the slut by the hips, hiking them up so his golden initials glitter back at him, vibrator still whirring away deep in that perky ass. 

Roman gives him a sharp swat before ripping the toy out of him without warning. The muffled, pained noise the brat makes is musical. 

All Roman wants is to hear more. 

He takes a final drag of his cigarette. Then stubs out the butt in that gaping hole, chuckling at the way it clenches down instinctively in a vain and counterproductive attempt to get rid of the pain.

The bitch shrieks. But Roman can tell he’s screaming through closed lips. 

He drops the butt in the ashtray by his long forgotten drink and shoves the toy back in. The little ridges and silicone spikes must be agony rubbing over the new burn just inside the rim.

Roman reaches back around, grabbing Jason’s face so harshly red fingerprints bloom immediately. 

The kid’s eyes stay on the ground again, even as new tears well up where Roman’s fingers dig into the flushed skin of Jason’s cheeks.

“Swallow, whore,” he snarls.

Jason makes a wretched sound, like his soul is shattering, then does as he’s told.

Roman smiles to himself.

Such an obedient little pet. 

**Author's Note:**

> If I missed a tag, please let me know. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are loved and appreciated ❤
> 
> [My Tumblr](https://scandalsavagefanfic.tumblr.com/)


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